


Love

by lilliquinn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, an entire fic based on a gr9 playlist, god bless, god bless god bless, stevebucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilliquinn/pseuds/lilliquinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are good days, and there are bad days, and Steve sees them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BoopitybopCoodilybap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoopitybopCoodilybap/gifts), [ReluctantRedhead](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ReluctantRedhead).



> This is based on this playlist: [http://8tracks.com/partiallystars/stevebucky-fluff] which is wonderful <3

_Remember when we were lost at sea?_   
_We would look at the bright night sky_   
_Thinking of, what we could be_   
_What we could be_   
_How to spend our lives_   
  
_Remember when we had nothing left?_   
_We were strung out in the cold_   
_Holding on, trying to save our breath_   
_Trying to save our breath_   
_We would not let go_   
_Whoa_   
_Through the good, through the bad and ugly_   
_Whoa_   
_We'll conquer anything_   
  
_'Cause one day we're gonna come back_   
_And laugh at it all_   
_One day we'll look at the past_   
_With love, love_   
_One day we're gonna come back_   
_And relive those thoughts_   
_One day we'll look at the past_   
_With love, love_

_Love-American Authors_

* * *

Steve Rogers had found his best friend, many miles and many years away from home.

Really, though, Bucky had found him.

He found him in the Smithsonian, and in the Avengers Tower, and in the supermarket.

And it was, strangely, in the supermarket that he decided to let Steve know he was alive and, not well, but not as bad as he had been before.

Steve had taken him in immediately, and Bucky remembered that Steve was the kind of guy to do that, to trust. He didn't remember if  _he_ had been, however, and he didn't like thinking about who he had been for too long.

It had been a week since then; Bucky wasn't sure if finding Steve had been the best idea, and Steve was somewhat out of his depth.

But that was okay, because they had been through lots of things. Why let this stop them?

 

Bucky's remembering process was slow and jagged, memories coming back in clumps and in nightmares like shards of glass, and he wound up with false memories that were woven into the real ones like a vine and a tree trunk.

And those were the bad days and of those, there were many. But some nights he'd remember how they had sat on the floor on the couch cushions as kids, and he'd watch Steve's eyes light up when he mentioned it, and that look was almost worth the nights when he asked if he had killed Howard and Maria.

Almost.

And sometimes, there were new things, and even those had good and bad points. The new television that Steve seemed to have a semi-difficult time with was entertaining enough, but then the channel would change to explosions and gunfire and both of them would turn it off and sit in silence, quiet and trembling.

And there were the panic attacks, which they both had. 

Steve had had them since childhood. they were spread out, came on for no reason, and only lasted a few minutes (although they always felt like more).

Bucky knew this, after remembering it one night, interspersed with Pierce and the cold and the blood. 

"You, you had paper bags to breathe into." Steve nodded.

"Yeah, Buck, would they help you? I still have some if they'd be good for you."

"I don't know."

"Okay."

Bucky's panic attacks made him feel like the entire universe was imploding and he was the epicenter. The paper bags did help, though.

And sometimes one of them couldn't sleep, and Steve would tell childhood stories to tell to Bucky, and Bucky would make up little stories to tell to Steve.

Sometimes they were happy; some nights Steve told Bucky about the times they had had in the small diner they used to frequent, or the carnival rides they had gone on. Some nights Bucky told stories about small children who fell in love in the 30s, or that weird thing he saw a bird do today.

Some nights Steve talked about after his mother had died. Some nights Bucky's stories ended with gunshots.

But they were alright.

* * *

Tony had overworked the system one day, a few weeks after Bucky had started living on Steve's floor.

It was November, and all the electricity, heating, and water was out.

Neither Steve nor Bucky could tolerate the cold for very long, and they ended up huddled in blankets watching some cartoon that Steve liked, and maybe Bucky's arm was a little too cold, and maybe Steve was a little bigger than he remembered, but it was okay.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'm going to do a chapter for each song :0


End file.
